[dracopia]

Username + ID #: HULABALL00 ACR0BAT & 897535
Name: Damascus
Gender: Male - he / him
Mask:
Backstory:
Extra:

[Kyar]

(best viewed on desktop)

Username + ID #: Kyar // 320861
Name: Tailos
Gender: Male
Mask:
Ancient // Modern

Backstory:

xxxxxxxx(500)

Long ago, the mountain trembled and roared.
From its side split a ravenous maw, a cavern deep and dark,
to the very heart of the sentinel peak. Some heard words
whispered, songs played, cries - and so the legend began.

// Then //

A soft mist hung in the air, drenching the mountain slopes in an
eerie cloud, cool and fresh as it passed over each leaf, mingling
with beads of sweat as the climber slowly ascended. Crude metal
cups and tools clacked against his belt, a triad of bells tied to the
grip of his cane singing sweetly, swallowed up by the heavy air.
The cave loomed overhead, and the traveler found his eyes wandering
its frightening teeth, jagged rocks scarring the entrance, visible just so
between passing waves of mountain mist. The man began humming
a prayer, rattling his bells as he carried on the worn trail, telling
himself he had heard nothing, had seen nothing, as he passed on.

The spirit of the cavern felt his own breath heavy against the
morning chill. Echoing droplets of water, saturated and swollen against
frigid stone walls, pattered the ground before him, where he cast
no reflection, no shadow in their microscopic wake. Again he sucked in
the energy of the mountain, letting a woeful sob resound from the mouth.
The metallic clinking of the traveler continued, now faster, as he faded
first from sight, then too, in sound.

An angry roar bellowed from the gash in the mountain, the dark spirit
turning wildly, a terrible dance of anger as another chance passed him by.
He could bear it here no longer, a shadow of a thing, confined to this
terrible pit in the mountainside. How he hungered, starved for the world
outside, the life corporeal, beyond his lifeless confines. Ghostly shadow
hands tore at the caves mouth, leaving gashes hard and deep. No pain bit
the empty fingertips, no warmth, no cold, no life. The hunger in him,
starvation more than he could bear, and still he bore it. How he longed
to drink the life of that simple man, devour the spirit of the passing
stranger and in turn, pull his shadow from the darkness - to reach
the unobtainable light.

A sound broke through his anger. A clatter. The shadow pressed
into the walls, vanishing into the nothingness. A young girl, perhaps
the traveler's daughter, stood now just beyond the reach of the
mountain's maw - jagged teeth, ready to swallow her whole. Then,
from her arms, a formless parcel was suddenly flung into the cave,
landing with a wet thud as it passed through the portal. Wordlessly,
she fled, her own bell-adored belt jingling along as she vanished,
like the man, far off to the mist.

Curiosity overcame him in a new kind of fury, the parcel's wrappings
torn to wild ribbons as he dug in, tooth and claw - until all that remained
on the dirty cavern floor was a fine, glazed clay mask, shining faintly
in the misty morning light.

Extra:

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx(500)xxxxxxxxxx

// Now //


Rain poured along the street in drowning sheets, headlights
stretched to blurry streaks as persistent travelers pressed
on past the glass café windows. A large group pressed in loudly,
jackets and hats pulled up over heads and massive bags, the
volume of their banter fading as the door closed, shutting out
the thunderous downpour. They hurried to the largest table,
not far from where Tailos sat silently, alone, cupping a
steaming mug in chilled hands - mask still pulled up over his
mouth and nose. He had come to terms with tourism, though
it was always a wonder how such a quiet village could attract
such noisy visitors.

"The pass should be clear as long as it doesn't flood.
The forecast said--"

"The forecast said it wouldn't rain at all, idiot."

"Shut up!" one friend elbowed another.

Tailos squeezed his tea bag, considering for just a moment
how nice it might be to squeeze the rowdiness out of
his present company.

"The cave doesn't flood, so we can always take the
other route--"

"The cave?" Tailos broke in, his deep voice carrying over
soft music, the group's chatter. Suddenly it made sense.
The equipment bags - ghost hunters. Of course they were
going to the cave.

"Yeah, the Whispering Cave," one of the college boys
answered, getting a quick look from his friends.

"So you're going to look for the spirit?" Tailos laughed.
"An old legend. But the mountains are treacherous.
You need a guide."

"Thanks, sir, we've already got one," he was dismissed
by the apparent leader of the quartet.

"There are many good guides, for the right price.
What do you know of the cave?"

The boys shared a look, but a quick deliberation seemed
to end favorably for the prying stranger as they turned
now to engage him.

"The legend says the spirit of the mountain devours anyone
who enters, trying to become human itself. The cave is
supposed to look like a mouth with big sharp teeth, just like
the spirit has. And it'll try to trick you into coming inside by
asking for help, or playing music."

Tailos nodded, considering the boys' story.

"Eyewitness accounts describe it as a shadow with an old
ceremonial mask, one of the ancient mountain gods.
Have you ever seen it? Have you been to the cave?" another
pressed him.

"I've lived here all my life," Tailos answered slowly.
"I've been to the cave."

The boys waited eagerly for him to continue, but he
turned back to his tea, stirring it slowly, mouth still
masked as the drink continued to steam.

"So... but you didn't see the spirit?"

"Wouldn't I be dead, if I had?"

The boys laughed, thanking him briefly before returning
to their maps, compasses, cameras. Funny, how much
had changed. But there was no need to lure them now.
He'd gotten what he wanted.

As the boys turned away, Tailos carefully pulled down
the mask, his warm drink running swiftly through terribly
sharp teeth.

[Little Fish]

mark <3
lil fish

[zero.two]

x

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username. zero.two (#743737)
kalon name. Mamoru
kalon mask. oni mask
kalon gender. male
prompt. 500 words + 500 word extra









xxxxxxxxxxx─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: * revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. * :☆ﾟ. ───

xx Mamoru hadn't always been wicked during his life, but when it did take a turn for the worst, he couldn't hold back. His backstory is one of horror, despair, and unfathomable hatred.

He was born in an impoverished family that resided in a small village in the depths of Japan. Growing up with only one other sibling, his younger brother, Mamoru was raised to be the protector of their family. His father was involved in dangerous business with the village's most infamous gang, and Momaru was always taught to be prepared to take over if something were to happen to him. Their lives were mostly peaceful. The two boys grew up to be strong young men who always helped their mother with her daily tasks. She was the one who taught them how to take care of the family, mostly for their futures, but also for her own.

The day that everything changed was one that none of his family saw coming, especially him. It was a dark and stormy evening, and Mamoru and his brother, Akio, had just returned from the market with fresh produce for their supper. When they had finally made their way into their home, they were quickly greeted with an overwhelming sense of terror. Their door had been ripped away, splinters of wood lying scattered across the soggy ground in every direction. The two brothers gave each other a wide-eyed glance before slowly entering the building, Mamoru ready to attack anyone who may have invaded without a moment's hesitation. He quickly stopped in his tracks as they crossed the threshold, his arm swinging out to keep his brother from progressing any further. Their eyes widened in horror at the sight before them, a sharp gasp coming from the younger boy. Their home had been completely ravaged; furniture was strewn across the room, decorations were destroyed, and worst of all, their parents were missing.

The two brothers advanced further into their home, their eyes scanning their surroundings in search of some sort of explanation for all the destruction. Akio called out in horror as he stumbled into their parent's room, his fingers gripping tightly around a piece of parchment left behind. Mamoru rushed over and snatched the object from his hands, his eyes scanning the curt words slashed across the page. These words read: "Your father was late on his collection, we took it upon ourselves to settle your parent's debts. Don't bother looking for them, they will be working for us indefinitely."

Mamoru watched in despair as Akio collapsed to the ground in agony and fear, his teeth clenched tightly as he seethed with anger. He was angry at everything; his father for involving their family with these criminals, the criminals themselves for taking his parents away, and above all, himself for allowing all of this to happen. Mamoru pulled his younger brother off the floor and entangled him in a strong embrace, vowing from then on, to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

-extra-

xx In the years following his parent's run-in with their local gang, Mamoru and his brother gradually grew apart. His brother had managed to forget about the situation and move on with his life; settling down with the girl of his dreams, and starting a family. Mamoru on the other hand continued to harness his hatred toward the gang and turned into a vigilante of sorts. He cut off all his ties to the real world and drifted into a world of darkness and pain.

He obtained his mask from a local shopkeeper, a man who he had known since he was young. Mamoru told him of the events that transpired and was taken under his wing to train. He excelled greatly in his studies and quickly graduated from the lessons he was being taught. Now strong and more or less heartless, the young man sought to aid the helpless members of his village and enact his revenge on those who threaten the peace.

At night, Mamoru slipped his mask over his face and patrolled the streets, a sword sheathed against his back, and a small lantern lighting his way. He wasn't necessarily a spiritual person, but he believed himself to be much like the Oni he had been taught about as a young child, but with a slight twist. Mamoru convinced himself that much like these spirits, he took vengeance out on the wicked and protected those who were in peril. Though he knew he wasn't one of these spirits, he struggled in finding another way to harness his hatred. In his own way, he believed that he had chosen the right path, and resented his brother for deserting him and his family's honor in return.
xxxxxxword count: 499 + 303

his mask: here
^designed digitally by my lovely girlfriend on Adobe Illustrator (not a member of cs)

[casiopea]

mark

[Westsparrow]

Mark!

[Sneky]

ooo mark

[snowdrake]

Username + ID #:
Name:
Gender:
Mask:
Backstory:
Extra:

res!!

[₊˚ʚ꒷ ₊˚Mallow₊˚ ‧₊]

Username + ID #: ₊˚ʚ꒷ ₊˚Mallow₊˚ ‧₊ // 954866
Name: Chan
Gender: Male
Mask: WIP
Backstory: wip
Extra: Maybe?

[gojo]

Username + ID #: ky-on ✦ 412507
Name: Alastair
Gender: Male
Mask: drawn by me

Backstory:
[500/500]


"Your life," a voice called along with footsteps echoing on the hospital floors, their form silhouetted by
the light coming from the hallways. "would you give it up, if it meant that his life would've ended on a
sweeter note?"

Alastair wiped his eyes quietly, making no attempt to meet the gaze of the mysterious person.
It should've been him. If only Alastair had thrown him aside and met his fate instead...

"Of course I would." A barely audible whisper pushed its way through his lips. The footsteps drew closer,
and yet his gaze stayed on the one exposed hand under the blanket. In his periphery, the mysterious person
placed a mask with intricate filigree all over it on the bed.

"Put this on, only if you're willing to dedicate your life to it, and you can do just that." His fingers traced
the mask, and in that moment of despair all he could do was stare without giving a second thought to their
words. If there was any chance at all to make things right for even a moment, he would take it.

"Give him, and others taken too soon like him, one last chance to be happy before he must rest."


✦✦✦

"Well?" His friend's voice caught him off guard. These were his final moments, and he didn't even know it.
He didn't need the mask to change his form, he was Jay's favorite person already. He would almost be
flattered if not for the situation. "Lighten up will you!" He pat his back hard and grinned like he always did.

"We've always wanted to go to this amusement park, so let's party til we drop!" Jay grabbed Alastair's hand,
and tugged him through the park. Alastair felt incredibly out of place here, they said they wanted to go here
as kids, and now they were adults. He supposed Jay held this childlike wonder to the end. They tried just
about every ride there was, ate all of the overly priced and overly greasy park food and nearly lost it all
going on rides again. It was a day the two had only dreamt of, and now it was reality.

Or at least, it was to Jay. Now he was tired, his eyes coming to a close. Alastair wanted to beg him to stay
awake, but he knew he couldn't.

"Let's... do this again sometime..." He whispered sleepily.


✦✦✦

He helped who he wanted, and now he was helping more people. Taking on the forms of their loved ones,
playing out the scenes that they wanted most. He should be happy, right? In truth, it was way more painful
than he had expected. Watching time and time again, the good of the world being taken away, with anguish
as their last memory. Part of him wishes he never took the mask, never having to see the all happy memories
and wishes of those who have already passed.

But his life was dedicated to this mask, and dedicated it shall stay.


Extra:



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CLEARING OUT OLD WRITING LOL